The Warner sun. (Warner, Brown Co., Dakota [S.D.]) 1885-1???, 1887-05-06

spun and wove the cloth from which
Eben's first uniform of gray mixed
cloth was made, and the strong, Stur-
dy fellow was not sorry that he had q
chance of "Gittin' out O hensCratCh
O. the house" as he expressed it. Ri
ley and Mack soon followed, and the
beams OF the old loom trembled as
the shuttle flew back and forth turn
ing its strokes to the rhythmic drOne
of the busy spinning wheel. They were
busy. Aunt Nina and Betty, weaving
q suit for Hamp, and all too soon the
cell came. The hungry call for more
troops. The blood curdling howl of
the famished dogs OF war. More
men. More mem" And when the
men we're torn and rent asunder, the
last, most heartrending demand CAME,
"Give us your boys! Give us your
boys"
All, the war, the war! Not satisf-
ed with the blood OF men, the tender
forms OF cherished boyhood-all-all
must go. Not content with the vel
low grain, the tender stalk, while yet
in the milk, must be cut down. The
flower of the south was pluCked and
trumpled under the iron heel of relent-
less war, and now the gaunt, bloody
hand was extended to Gull the half
blown bud, thehope of the land!
Four boys gone marching away to
die for q cause, the business of which
the poor widow a unable to argue.
What did she care for the doctrine Of
states rights? How could the per-
petuatiOn or abolition of slavery af-
feet her? Her four boys were gone
marching away, marching away. Not
with plumes waving and victorious
banners floating in the breeze. No, not
triumphant and flushed with hope.
They had gone marching away into
the Jaws of grim death, to fill the
breach in the lines by the POtOmac's
crimsoned flood. Marching away with
Hopping cloth hats and mixed gray
uniforms OF homespun, and ill-ftting
shoes Of red leather, your boys had
gone, marching away, marching away.
Eben was killed in the wilderness,
Riley died in prison, Hamp died of ex-
haustion and the hardships of the
northern climate, while following Jeb.
Stuart in his wild rides over mountain
and valley.
All, you that are thrilled with stir
ring emotions when you read how
that knightly commander, bearded
and booted, rode forward down into
battle with @ song on his lips
when the dew is on the blossom"
Little think we how many brave
boyish hearts swelled up into their
throats at the thought of widowed
mothers among the barrens.
Mack came home. He was brought
on the cars to the nearest station,
and then hauled in a cart to his home
in the piney woods. Only the poor
shattered wreck of a man came home,
and she had watched four stout lads
go marching away.
II haint got but two now, an Mack,
poor Teller, Pm afeared he'll never see
the blackberry blossoms ag'in. He
was terribly wounded at the start an
them hospitle muses. thest in a man
ner made it wuss. Then here's Little
Dick, God SEN they won't want my
baby boy" y.
Bit they did. They wanted the
baby boy. The hungry war dogs
must snap and snarl over the weakly
frame of Little Dick, too.
How we'll | remember the weakly
looking lad! Five feet, scant at that.
slender and boyish. Two great hol-
low eyes set in a pinched, pale face,
the unattractiveness of which was
heightened by a thin, scattered head
of s~un.scorched hair. A little whitish,
fuzzy down on cheek and chin, where
the beard should have appeared had
the surroundings gwen more encour-
agement. Colorless complexion, save
the sallow cast of sunburn, and a few
blue veins up under the brim of his
Topped hat. The ill-ftting clothes
hung about his person, and the boys
SAID that he used to have to drag his
musket when out OF breath on a long
march.
Poor Aunt Nina! She left the bed
side where the body OF her emaciated
boy lay in inert and indifferent pros
tration between life and death, the
manly tones of voice dwindled down
to aquerrelous treble. and the Animal
ed look changed to the vacant nerve
less stare of hopelessness. She left
this sorrowful scene to. enfold in a
fond embrace the puny form of her
baby boy. Great tears chased one
another down the bosom Of the lift
ting Jacket, and kisses rained on the
sun-burned cheek until the lips, parch-
ed with grief, were no longer able to
drop the holy dew of a mothers love
on the pale cheek OF her baby boy.
Betty wept, and prayed, and Rugged
Little Dick to her bosom-that bosom
on which his baby locks had oft been
pillowed.
Sheit was who first taught the baby
to walk. and then to talk. She had